Cool
It becomes wet
Hot, it steams;
Never takes the same route
Into a heart frozen shut still, yet, but not forever.
I bite my knuckles when the clouds drift overhead.
They bring the unknown
And they bring the inevitable.

Take me out of this waiting.
I want the sky blue
And I want the grass dry
And the pavement friendly to my bare soles.
Give me bee hum
And leaf rustle
And stop this dance you savor
As you change from
One to the next.